


Peacekeeper

by CatlixMeowscouty



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gunplay, M/M, Smut, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:57:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7286191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatlixMeowscouty/pseuds/CatlixMeowscouty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCree was angry at Hanzo. He shouldn't have just left like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peacekeeper

McCree was pissed off. Fuming, he stormed down the hallways of Gibraltar, his spurs hitting the ground and creating a clinking sound that just made him walk faster. They'd lost the point, without so much of a fight and despite this, Hanzo had just left in the middle of the battle for dominance. Everybody who fought knew (although they didn't voice it, knowing it would make McCree worse) that Hanzo's Dragonstrike would have won the fight for them easily. Instead, the man silently crept away at the peak of action. 

People parted away from the mad New Mexican, fearing his wrath and his Deadeye. The few who didn't move saw his hand move towards his revolver, and stay there. Mercy just looked from the gun to his eyes hidden under his hat and Reaper gave a growl of warning. For McCree, it was a calming force that keep him grounded, knowing that without Peacekeeper, he'd have done much worse to the inhabitants of the watchpoint.

Finally, he made it to the door of their (his, he corrects crossly in his head). Before he can reach for the doorknob, the door swings out and Genji looks out, maskless and squinting at the seraped man standing in the doorway. Grunting, he pushes past McCree and into the hallway, and with a flash, he's gonna, leaving a trail of green in his wake that quickly fades. McCree raises an eyebrow, slowly holstering his gun that he had unconsciously removed from his belt. The man leans against the doorframe, not surprised when he finds his partner sitting on a mat behind some burning incense. It's not the first time McCree has walked in on Hanzo meditating.

"You are ruining my meditative state, Jesse." He utters without opening an eye. This infuriates McCree further, and before his knows it he is stomping over to his bed, sitting down harshly on it and unbuckling his shoes. Despite his anger, he still sets his trusted pair of boots in their spots next to Hanzo's.

"After what you did today, I think you deserve that and more." He finally growls in a heavy Southern drawl. Hanzo opens his eyes at this, raising one eyebrow delicately before huffing a slight laugh, only serving to make McCree set his hand on his revolver again. Hanzo's eyes flick to his bow, always on edge even though he knows Jesse would never hurt him.

"What exactly do I deserve?" He basically purrs, standing up from his cross-legged position on the ground and blowing out the incense. He can hear McCree squirm uncomfortably and stand, and is rewarded by a barely there grunt. He hears the click of short, dirty nails on gun metal and feels a shiver, not unpleasant and not unwelcome, go down his spine.

"Stop that." Jesse growls, with less anger and more confusion and stubbornness in his voice. His serape clings to him, a protection from the pain and fear of the world in his eyes, but a beauty in Hanzo's.

"Stop what, Jesse." He answers, but it isn't a question. He knows exactly what he's doing. The situation is like a bomb, and although they have all dealt with many bombs in their career, this one is more important. There's more to lose, and more to be won if they do this right. 

"You know what- that! You always do that, that voice and the eyes. You know when you're in trouble but today you're not going to get out of it. Lay down." He commands, and Hanzo feels like cornered prey in a game of cat and mouse. It's not often that he's the prey, he thinks as McCree backs him up until the backs of his knees bump into the edge of the bed and he falls back, bouncing slightly. McCree crawls on top, serape hanging down and he takes it off as his weight is braced on his robotic arm on the side of Hanzo's head and all that Hanzo can think is that Jesse is taking down his shield. 

The bomb is defused.

Hanzo's reaches up, fingers tracing McCree's face, relishing in every dip and scar and the scratch of beard on his palms. But before he can voice his thoughts, McCree is forcing his arms up, removing the silk ribbon that holds Hanzo's hair up and using it to tie his hands to the headboard.

Then he takes out the gun. 

Hanzo isn't unfamiliar with Peacekeeper. The tarnished metal reflects the candles' flames around the room and the small dents from explosions are like artwork to his eyes. McCree holds it up to the light, squinted eyes scrutinizing the dull bronze like he's looking for a reason to repair her again. Then those eyes turn to Hanzo, as if he's looking for a reason now to shoot.

He holds the gun as arm's length, and the barrel's tip barely touches Hanzo's lips. McCree's hands aren't shaking like they do when he's faced with a challenge or a new situation, because he's grounded by the gun and Hanzo can't help but feel bad that he can't do that for the cowboy. Instead of dwelling on those thoughts, he leans forward the small distance between the tip and himself and presses his lips to it, kissing the barrel as he looks up to McCree. His jaw is clenched. 

"Go on, Jesse. Shoot me." He says in a gravelly voice, and he wraps his lips around the gun. It tastes like copper and Hanzo can't make out if its from metal, or long-gone blood. The slight smell of gunpowder enters his space and urges him to keep going. McCree straddles his hips, one hand holding his arms up to make sure they don't escape the ribbon and the other holding the gun, pressing it ever so slightly into Hanzo's mouth.

Hanzo fights to keep the smug smirk off his face as he feels McCree hard against his leg. Just thinking of Jesse inside of him has him half-hard and fighting to keep a moan inside. Instead, he swirls his tongue around the barrel, closing his eyes and instead just savoring the moment; savoring the presence of his lover above him and the tarnished gun in his mouth, a non-threatening presence. 

The width of the barrel and the gun itself is huge, bigger than McCree but Hanzo is sure he can take more, to please the man above him. He slips his mouth past the front sight, the slight edge making his jaw ache but not enough to make him stop. Moaning, his bucks his hips slightly before he can stop himself, thinking of how this might look from an outside perspective. A normally stoic man, tied up all pretty, reduced to a fucktoy by a gunslinger. Jesse freezes, shivering and almost removing the gun to put himself in its place but he regains control, leaning down and marking Hanzo's neck as the gun slowly thrusts into Hanzo's mouth. Hanzo's fingers clench, gripping Jesse's like he's dying and hell, he just might be. Hanzo couldn't care less if he was.

The tip of the barrel catches the back of his throat, and he gags, eyes watering but he won't stop, not when he knows McCree is so close and expecting him to do well. He wants to do well for him. He doesn't take more, instead moaning and rocking forward to meet Jesse. They both moan softly, McCree's hands starting to shake as he reaches his limit, his finger sitting at the trigger to ground himself. Hanzo doesn't worry, swirling his tongue and moving up and down the barrel. He knows the gun isn't loaded, and he trusts Jesse.

They come together, with murmurings encouragement coming from McCree and a stream of Jesse's name from Hanzo as overstimulated tears run down his face. Slowly, McCree eases Peacemaker from his mouth, placing her on the bedside table before he leans forward, untying Hanzo's hands and takes his face in his own hands. 

"You did so well." He whispers gruffly, kissing tears from his cheeks and running his fingers through silky black hair. Hanzo smiles slightly, eyes closed and body slumped and tired against the mattress. 

"Did I make it up to you?" He asks hoarsely, throat raw from the gun and the moans and McCree laughs out loud, threading their fingers and leaning his forehead against the other's. 

"You always do." Jesse answers, settling next to the other and curling around his body before covering the two of them up with the blanket and turning out the light. 

"Jesse?" Hanzo asks before they both drift off, and McCree lets him know he's awake by kissing the back of his neck gently. "I love you." He says tiredly, pressing his back against McCree's stomach. He can feel McCree's smile against the back of his neck.

"I love you, too."


End file.
